Absolute
by Traditional.Rose
Summary: Edward, a soldier, and Bella, an analyst, are thrown together. For both of them their work has always been paramount, but their bond complicates their priorities. They know their work must come first, but soon the most important mission becomes protecting each other.
1. Chapter 1

**Lets see where this goes. No promises.**

Bella caught her reflection in the window and realised she was rocking. Sitting hunched on the floor, back ostensibly positioned to be propped up by the bed, she sat in the darkness of the hotel room waiting for the phone to ring.

She'd been there for an hour. When Bella had entered the room, her energy and façade dropped. She didn't bother inserting her key card into the receptacle by the door that would automate the lights. Had just managed to kick off her heals, grab the phone and pull it down onto the floor next to her.

As fried as she was, her brain was on repeat. Soothing herself, in self-preservation. _They promised. Promised he'd call…_

Just like she'd promised everyone that everything had been fine when she'd left. That nothing had been wrong.

She'd lied. _What if they lied too?_

Bella watched detached as her reflection continued to rock, back and forth, in the darkness. Washington's lights gleaming down below the glass. She knew what to do if he didn't call. He'd made her recite it over and over, also in the darkness. But then she'd had his arms wrapped around her, the fragrance of them keeping her distracted from his instructions.

But he'd force her to repeat them. Would stop and quiz her, until even he was satisfied she knew the plan like a reflex. Partly because that was his way. Drilling everything over, looking for weaknesses, searching all possible outcomes and having equally thorough contingencies. But also because he knew her. Knew she would realise what was happening beyond her small role. Knew she'd only truly realise then what was happening. Knew she would recoil into her mind, and need to act without decision-making. Oh yes, he knew her. His other half.

The phone rang.

Bella reached down, her clammy hand cradling the receiver to her ear, and waited.

"Bella."

Her breath caught. It was him. Everything was ok. He was ok. All the pain, the lying, the fucking shit was done. Because he was ok. And now she would be too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! I am so sorry for going MIA. Life got *** **pretty hectic** ***. But I'm back.**

 **I've edited/changed/rewritten/reorganised some of my original chapters, and have new chapters in the pipeline but thought it would just be easiest to repost the old stuff and blend it into the new. Sorry for those who will be rereading a bit of older materiel.**

 **Let me know if you like! T.R. xx**

 _ **~A~**_

 _ **Two years prior.**_

Edward knew from the first time he saw her that Bella was his. It would take him a lot longer to realise how absolutely he belonged to her in return. But from those first glances, the overwhelming feelings of protectiveness were already forming.

She stood out in the mess at the Marine Corps Command Headquarters in Georgia. But that was more from the reactions of all the men towards this unidentified civilian female, than due to anything she was doing. She was given many a double glance, and a wider girth than was normal. Small and slight, she wore her suit comfortably, unlike most other women on the base who seemed self conscious about their suits when surrounded by uniformed personnel. Her suit was black, with a white shirt buttoned to the top. It was simple, and the clothing could have been anywhere from six months to six years old. A traditional, safe choice.

Edward watched her as she moved down the line, nodding her head to the man speaking with her. Edward clocked the mans' uniform and identified him as a Staff Sergeant, but one he didn't know. The sergeant's tray sagged under the weight of his piled food, but hers simply held a paper takeaway drink cup and a banana. Edward continued to watch as they moved down the line of hot plates and salad bars, swiped their badges to deduct their food payment, and moved to a table along the perimeter of the mess.

 _So she's staff_ , he concluded. Visitors - even official ones - paid with cash as there were no card facilities on base. The card she swiped was her ID, attached to a lanyard around her neck. Most lanyards displayed the logos or colours of the owners Department but not hers.

For the rest of the meal Edward continued to watch her talking to the Staff Sergeant who managed to inhale his food throughout the conversation. She sipped at her drink, but the fruit went untouched.

Later he would reflect on all those first assessments with a smile. Knowing her as well as he would, all the observations made sense to him.

The suit had not in fact come naturally to her at the beginning of her career. She assured him that she has been even more self-conscious than the other women in the beginning, and felt " _like a girl playing dress ups_." Edward struggled to imagine her as feeling insecure, even in the beginning. She had no reason to. She was brilliant. He eventually learnt how conscious of her gender she was at work, and how she deliberately tried to eliminate her femininity by showing as little skin as possible. He would tease her about that routinely as he skimmed his fingers over her skin in his bed. " _As if a suit could hide you, baby. Hide your body… your legs… your skin..."_ She would laugh and claim that her suit disguised her quite well, thank you very much. He'd roll his eyes. As if anything could disguise her body from him, or two hundred men starved for female attention.

He would learn too about her eating habits. How she forgot to eat when concentrating or working too hard. Edward did not particularly welcome that habit - one of the few things he didn't adore about her - and he would remind her often or leave food on her desk.

The lanyard. Well, the lanyard he could have guessed at even that first day. A blank lanyard at a military base often meant the owner was from one of the Intelligence departments, and didn't want to advertise exactly which one.

He would learn which department and her role eventually. And would be crazy proud of her, and more than a bit baffled that such a brilliant girl with a Top Secret clearance, a near finished PHD, and four languages would ever be interested in a dumb soldier like him. Being with the Department of Defence where everyone joked the official language was acronyms, he learnt the acronym her team was given by uniforms: Subject Matter Experts or an SME. Meaning those who have highly nuanced, specific (often classified) knowledge of a niche subject. An SME. He liked teasing her with that.

" _What do you feel like for dinner?"_

" _I don't know, you're the expert..."_

" _What do you wanna watch?"_

" _I don't know, you're the expert..."_

" _Where do you wanna go over the Forth of July long weekend?"_

" _I don't know, you're the expert..."_

The joke never got old. Well, to him. Bella would just roll her eyes. His little expert. But Edward actually liked to think of himself as an SME too. One who had highly nuanced, specific knowledge of one niche subject: Bella Swan.

But all this knowledge and insight would come later.

On that day in the mess, Edward only knew one thing. _She was his._

 _ **~A~**_

The first time Bella saw Edward however, she did not have a glowing reaction. Above all else, Bella found Edward's presence soothing, but that very first day was the only exception to the rule. Edward would eventually become her calm, then her focal point. Not the first time though. That first time he left her pissed. " _Dazzled_ ," he'd later tease her. _"Pissed,"_ she'd insist.

His name was on the list of those attending a meeting she was being flown into Georgia for. She didn't take any notice of it, being focused as she was on the Sergeant Major of the base who she would be primarily addressing. Bella had been given a few days prep for the briefing, which was far longer than she usually got but realistically that was probably due to the flights and planning involved of an interstate briefing than out of deference for her.

Bella was an analyst with the Central Intelligence Agency, Middle East Desk. She was titled as a specialist or SME on sectarianism within the Levant, however those in the division knew her as the go-to for all military capabilities and political machinations within the region. _"The Bellapedia,"_ they'd joke. Bella started off as a junior analyst after she decided midway through her PHD that she needed real world experience on Middle Eastern foreign policy. She cut her teeth during the final term of the Obama administration, and helped strategize on the implications of the American withdrawal from Iraq. It came as no surprise to her - even as a relatively green analyst - or anyone else in her division when American troops were back in country only a few years later. This time facing a new enemy. Bella's naivety had been dulled by exposure to political machinations – both in Washington and within the CIA – and the kill, die, repeat pattern of the US foreign policy. Nevertheless she did her time, adjusted to life inside the American intelligence community, and won a transfer to the Levantine subdivision soon after. As an analyst she had access to Top Secret and Classified military and intelligence reporting about the Middle East, wrote her own reports, performed briefings to seniors, military and politicians, and travelled across the country advising and anticipating the next threat to the west.

The meeting that morning was to brief outgoing marines being posted to Jordan; one of the U.S's few remaining friends in the region. She was to educate the squadron leaders about the general political climate, the culture, what to avoid, and who to trust. What was the Jordanian perspective on America and - more specifically - American troops operating in their country?

The attendants were already waiting for Bella in a cheaply furnished meeting room, even though she'd arrived early. _Early is on time, and on time is late_ was drilled in to all Defence personnel, uniformed or no.

Bella introduced herself to all the men and shook their hands. Edward was there but she barely gave him pause. He was just another tall, well-postured man in uniform. His hair was clipped to the uniform military cut, his face hard and lined no doubt from exposure and stress. His hand was the same rough skin as all the others she shook in the room that day. Throughout her briefing and the Sergeant Major's questions Bella did notice that one man – Edward – didn't stop watching her. He hadn't looked down to take notes as the others did. His eyes did not yet have that warm glowing contact that Bella would come to crave. They were simply…. Steady.

The questions started as soon as Bella finished her brief. She was quizzed about the royal family, the nationality of the Jordanian military trainers, and the numbers of foreigners in the country. All succinct, qualified questions. Bella was happy with the level of engagement, which displayed the interest and minds of the Marines. After the questions had dried up the Sergeant Major called an end to the meeting and thanked her. He exited quickly, allowing the remaining men to talk at ease amongst themselves while Bella collected the notes that she'd written on the plane.

When she saw a Marine sidle up next to her, Bella looked up. He was dark, broad shouldered, uniform immaculate. He smiled. "Really appreciate you coming all this way to talk with us. I know my men will find all your information valuable."

Bella smiled, "That's what I'm here for. Glad you found it useful."

He nodded. "So are you heading straight back to the airport? Fly you in, then fly you out?"

"I am," she stacked her notes and tucked them into her arm. There was a slight pause in the conversation as the voices of the other soldiers flowed out into the corridor.

The pause lasted a few beats longer still and Bella pivoted to leave. "Can I give you a ride?" He asked.

"No, that's ok," she smiled. "I've got a driver picking me up."

"Private McGarr?"

"I think that was his name. I'm meeting him at half past." Bella responded, looking down at her watch.

The Marine tsked. When he spoke again he'd lowered his voice though there was only one other man left in the room, waiting down by the door no doubt to turn out the lights once they'd left. "Private McGarr can't give you a proper ride. Use me. I'll even drive you to the airport once I've worn you out." Bella felt cold seep over her body and a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Promise I'll get you to the plane on time," the Marine grinned, taking her silence as consideration.

Bella was considering all right. Considering how to extract herself from the room without drawing attention to the conversation, and get the hell away from the man in front of her. It wasn't the first time she'd been propositioned on a military base, or even the most indelicate, but nevertheless, her discomfort settled deep in her stomach.

Before she could move past the idiot, the other remaining Marine came storming over. Oh great. He'd heard. Now there would have to be an official report, and this gross interaction would become a talking point in her team. Another consideration that maybe the team really should send a male colleague instead of Bella to these briefings...

Instead of coming over to reprimand the man for the comments overheard, the incoming man yanked hard on the back collar of the propositioning solider and pushed him back into the wall. "You stupid fucking bastard," Bella heard him snarl at the pinned man. The Marine pushed back against his captor, but man tersely raised his other arm up over the Marines' neck and applied a decent amount of pressure judging by the colour the cornered man turned. The captor shoved his face closer to the Marine. "How _dare_ you," he growled.

His voice snapped Bella from her role as bystander. " _Stop._ " She seethed, refusing to cry out like a bloody damsel in distress despite her shock at the proposition and now violence.

The captor snapped his head to look at her while still retaining pressure to the Marines' windpipe. The man was _seething_. Bella was reminded that she was standing in a room with two eilitely trained soldiers. One was being pinned, and the other was furious, violent, and - while ostensibly on her side – blocking the exit.

"Stop. It." Bella repeated, meeting his scowl with one of her own.

The man waited a few beats as they continued to glare at one another, before finally releasing the Marine and stepping back in one movement. The man positioned his body between hers and the Marines, and his gaze following the wheezing man as he scuttled from the room.

He was still staring at the empty door as Bella attempted to move around him and exit herself.

She had almost made it when he asked, "Are you alright?"

Bella had kept her cool with the first solider, but suddenly struggled to maintain it with the second one. "Yes, I'm fine," she glared back over her shoulder at him.

He didn't react to her vengeance. "We have to report this," he said.

"I know that," she snapped. "And I also now have to report what you did to him."

"I know that," he repeated calmly.

His calmness pissed her off even more than the proceeding events. _Where was that bloody calmness seconds ago?_ "You should have just left it alone," Bella huffed. Huffed. Dammit, there was the damsel kicking in.

She got a scowl out of him then. "I can't not react to violation of base rules."

"It was hardly a violation," Bella argued.

"Sexual harassment is not acceptable in this, or any, base."

Sexual harassment. Once those words were written it was going to be an investigation along with the report. And then they would make her talk with the Sexual Harassment Victims Support staff. Great. She'd been down that route the first handful of times she'd experienced interest when she was a junior analyst. It would all be a politically correct waste of her time. And yet another marker against her and any other female who wanted to brief on military based. It was just better off to ignore the sexually frustrated men, leave, and not spend the next two weeks attending meetings about proper workplace behaviour and reporting protocols. This soldier had gone and turned a minor irritation into a whole mess. All on some grandiose idea of military honour. A soldier with a fucking hero complex. How original. Bella was now furious. "And how do you know I wasn't welcoming his attention? That I wasn't going to take him up on the offer?"

His eyes - Bella swore to god - turned black. He inhaled sharply through flared nostrils and held her in his gaze. It lasted a few seconds, long enough for her to see the vein in his neck pulsing wildly in her periphery. "Were you?" he asked quietly.

"That's none of your business!" _Fuck_ , her mind screamed, _get control of yourself._ _Fucking hysterical damsel_. "You should've given me the decency to react on my own instead of slamming the guy against a wall! I thought you Marines had better discipline than that." He opened his mouth to retaliate but Bella held up her hand. "Don't. I'm not interested in your honour, or my honour, or whatever rules you thought you were upholding. You overstepped. And overreacted. You think I'm not used to lusting soldiers? You have _no idea_ what I deal with every single day. And if its not one guy making a snarky comment, then its another tripping over me to display his precious masculinity. I get it. You're a tough marine. You smash and grab and break and push and shove, and oh yeah, defend women's honours. If you want to plead your case, do it in your incident report. Good bye solider."

Bella realised she was panting as she exiting the briefing room. She was sick of being used as an opportunity for testosterone fuelled boys to eek out their frustrations. She was an SME, and she'd presented well. But clearly, to at least two men in the room, all they saw was a girl. A girl who now had a bloody HR report to file. 

_**~A~**_


	3. Chapter 3

They didn't meet again for eight months.

Edward was on deployment, but he remembered the brunette back in the States. And he felt ashamed, knowing how she must remember him.

He wanted her to know that he was sorry. Sorry for being guilty of every single thing she accused; a guy who asserted his reactions onto her situation. She was right; he did think she needed rescuing in that briefing room. What Lance Corporal Tyler said to her was categorically sexual harassment and a violation of every rule. But Edward knew he had reacted far stronger than if he had heard those words aimed at another woman. Something about _that_ girl being threatened… being propositioned? It made his inner caveman take over.

Edward was sorry for escalating the situation, especially when it was apparent afterwards how absolutely mortified she was. The girl had grace and poise, and was so fucking professional even when that fucker reduced her to a quick fuck… Well, she didn't need him having a tantrum as well.

He _hated_ to think that she associated him with violence. He was a Marine, obviously, so that was kinda unavoidable. But the idea she saw him as someone who could flip so easily? While not in a combat zone? Into physical violence? It made him feel sick. More than apologizing for his behaviour _and_ Lane Corporal Tyler's _(fucker),_ Edward's skin literally crawled with the need to explain to Bella that he wasn't _that guy_. The broken soldier who talked with his fists and could turn at any moment, and pin someone to a wall. But not just anyone either. Her. Edward wanted to promise her, over and over, that he would never hurt her. Could never. But the very first time after spotting her in the mess, the first opportunity he had to talk to her…. He showed her he was violent and a killer, a dumb brute in a uniform, who could fly off the handle and grab her by the throat- Edward flinched _even imagining_ Bella thinking he could possibly hurt her.

Edward flipped - between the apology for his behaviour and the promise he would never hurt her - as to which would be the second thing he'd say to Bella if she were there with him in Amman. The strongest impulse, and the very first thing he'd say to her though, he already knew.

He would ask her if she was ok.

Edward had asked her that day, immediately upon Tyler's exit. But her brief demurral obviously wasn't true. He'd been about to ask her again but then she'd turned on him too. _Dazzled_ him with her fury. Then left. Left the base, left the state, gone back to Virginia.

He'd checked with Private McGarr that evening that Ms Swan had gotten back to the airport alright. The Private affirmed, said she read reports in the passenger seat the whole way, hadn't spoken a word. Was she still as furious as she was after the briefing? Was she worried about the fallout?

Edward had wanted to ask if she was ok after what his shitty self had put her through. Had wanted to ask her is she was ok after flying interstate, her briefing, the fucking shit with Tyler, then flying back home again. Had wanted to ask if she was ok after writing the HR report, and after speaking to the counsellors that would be mandatory after any such report. Not that they did anything. From conversations, Edward knew those sessions served as little more than compliance regulations and legal protections – Tick & Flicks – than providing help for complaints.

She must have been through all that before. " _You think I'm not used to lusting soldiers? You have no idea what I deal with every single day,"_ she'd yelled at him. That made sense of her reaction to everything. It was clearly not the result of one event with two fucking idiot soldiers, but obviously a build up of god knows how many similar incidents… Just thinking about other men hitting on her, leering at her, or talking down to her made Edward see red.

The fury, the shame, and the need to explain his character to her raged within Edward. But the need to ask her _'Are you ok?' remained_ foremost in his mind.

 _ **~A~**_

That Edward was eaten up over his run-in with Bella was an utter unknown to everyone in his life. To them he was still the same Cullen.

Edward became Cullen when he enlisted at nineteen. His parents had been killed in car accident when he was a small child and he'd bounced between foster homes and juvenile care centres for years. At eighteen he was out. Sent on his way with a wish of good luck and a letter of recommendation from his last school principle. His time in foster homes had taught Edward to always be on his guard. Nothing, and no one, was forever. He was on his own, and the only one who would help him, make sure he was warm enough, fed enough, had brushed his teeth or had clean clothes for the next day was him.

Edward had bloody good grades, especially for someone growing up in the system. But going to college wasn't high on his priorities. Edward had given himself a year to see if he could find something… anything that called to him. He had always been a loner and that didn't change over that year that he worked in a few gas stations and unskilled labour jobs to get a bit of savings. His old principle hired Edward to do old jobs and garden work, and often took his coffee out to talk while Edward raked and weeded. He'd suggested Edward go travel. Go to the East Coast or down South, hell even Mexico or Canada. Get some experience in his life and make friends. But more driftless changes didn't hold any appeal to Edward. He didn't resent the foster homes, or the overworked and understaffed volunteers from the centres. Or the kids who didn't give him a second glance as the new kid in yet another new school. And certainly not his parents for "abandoning him" as one counsellor had suggested soon after the accident. He wasn't bitter and he wasn't depressed. It was just that nothing pulled at him.

When he hit twelve month anniversary of leaving his last foster home and his nineteenth birthday, Edward shook himself. It had been a year and he had nothing much to show for his newfound freedom. So nothing called to him? It was stupid to keep working casual jobs under the vague idea that one day he would stumble across something that would give him meaning. So he didn't feel a compulsion to do anything? Then he would cultivate things to do. Give himself a routine, a job, a greater purpose.

So he enlisted.

And excelled.

The United States Marine Corps.

Smashed basic training.

Saw combat in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Deployment in Jordan and Djibouti.

Promotions and recommendations.

And all on Uncle Sam's dollar, meaning he could save away his earnings. While some fellow soldiers spent their paychecks on big kid toys – cars, motorbikes, jet skies - Edward barely touched any of it. He lived on base, so didn't pay rent or see sense in getting mortgage on a house off base only to have to drive himself in every dawn for physical training. He ate on base, so no food bill. Wore uniform 90% of his waking hours, so no clothing bill. He did plenty of travel, both within the US and abroad with the military, so no travel bill. So at 29 he had no debt, a fuck-ton of savings, but nothing to ever spend it on. Edward was still unable to shake the juvenile thought he'd find something to spend it on eventually.

His determination and his loner status ultimately cultivated his reputation as a formidable solider. Steadfast. Driven. Sure, maybe little reserved and quiet but always focussed on the work in front of him, the tasks for the day, the broader mission. He was happy to not be involved in the bitching of basic training, the drunken wild nights on base, or any of the multiple alpha dog competitions. Cullen was well liked by his superiors and colleagues, if a little aloof. Some thought he was cold, unfriendly, or standoffish, most just thought he was just detached like most soldiers who deployed. From nineteen Edward had given himself something to focus on. Made it his priority. His dedication belonged to his men, his commanding officer, and the Navy.

But now his focus had shifted. Edward kept it, like all things, to himself.

At first Edward told himself if he could just speak to Bella – ask if she was ok, apologise, and explain – then his mind would relax and he could focus again. It was probably just that he was deployed again, and there was little else to fill his mind on long patrols or off shifts on base than to ruminate about the run in with the brunette analyst back stateside. But the longer it lasted, Edward realised. His focus, his priority, his motivation – for so long driven by the expectation Edward set for himself – had changed.

No one could tell from the outside. His worked hard, met the objectives, and cultivated meaningful relationships with the Jordanian counterparts while in Amman. Smashed his PT, and stayed back beyond his hours to complete extra research on the secondment. Trained juniors.

But no matter how hard he worked himself, Edward slept poorly. He thought his brain was just working overtime on all the new stimuli, but really, he knew.

That brunette analyst stateside had woken something in him. Reignited the teenage thought he'd had that maybe something was waiting for him. Maybe his priority, his focus, his motivation… could be on her.


	4. Chapter 4

After filing her incident report and gritting her teeth through the interminable HR interview, Bella put the incident with First Lieutenant Cullen out of her mind. She was good at compartmentalising. It was one of the things that made her a good analyst. Others she worked with struggled to either get their head in the game, or out of it. If they'd had a fight with their wife it effected their attention to detail during report reading. If they had read distressing or graphic information, others then struggled to disassociate after work and would zone out during their kids baseball practice. Her colleagues envied Bella's ability to zone in instantly upon starting work, without needing a coffee or a warming up period. She never complained of the work affecting her personal life either. It of course helped that Bella didn't have a personal life.

A Washington State native and import to Virginia, Bella hadn't carried over any long distance friendships with the move, and cultivated very few new ones. Even the relationships she did maintain were work centric; She had regular chats with a few of the guys in the office snuck during coffee breaks or while waiting for the microwave to heat their food. A few professors she'd gotten to know during her postgraduate studies, all considerably older and married. Those communications usually occurred over email, or at the rare book launch. Beyond that, there wasn't anything worth mentioning.

It didn't help that both Virginia State and her team were transitory. People posting in, people posting out. Her work meant travelling around the country to brief, and analyse. Multiple trips every year to the Levant. All leaving her tired and jetlagged. She was utterly and completely dedicated – some might say consumed – by the work. And it's not like she could talk about anything that she did outside of work. Almost everything was classified, even her employer. So outside relationships and friendships were hard to establish, let alone maintain.

Within the job didn't present many options either. The agency also skewed male and older. Not that Bella minded, but naturally she didn't have much in common with that demographic outside of the job. She didn't follow sports, or play any herself. Her exercise routine was structured to be maintained by herself, and accessible whether she was at home, on a military base or in hotels. Running. Swimming. Nothing that required teammates or equipment.

Bella didn't mind the lack of a social life. It was a fair price to pay for the interesting work she got to do. Besides, she'd always been a loner anyway.

Part of the reason her job was such a good fit, and why she had no problem motivating herself, was her genuine passion in the work. While yes, the history of the region was depressing; Bella couldn't help but be fascinated by conflict.

She liked studying broken things. Broken people. Where wrong decisions, misspoken words or even indolence could have catastrophic results. How people reacted to being under a constant state of panic and danger. What it did to them after months, years, or decades of exposure.

Bella had lived with broken things. Broken people.

She was born to a teen mom and spent her childhood in a series of different men's apartments or houses; whomever her mother was seeing at the time. They were all broken, and they each liked to break her mother too. They made sure she was always subservient to them, all her money given to them. If they thought her mother flirted with another man, they hit her. Once one tried hitting a six-year-old Bella when they suspected her mother of cheating, but when Renee didn't protest or even react, he gave up and went gone back to hitting again Renee instead.

When Bella completed the obligatory psych exam to join the Central Intelligence Agency at 24, Bella had downplayed these memories. She'd focussed instead on how her childhood experiences had fostered her independence, her resilience, her ability to react well to an every changing environment.

The psych reported what Bella already knew; to endure her childhood Bella had developed a coping mechanism of removing herself from the situation mentally, and basically treated her broken mother and broken childhood as an experiment. The psych said this allowed her to watch dispassionately and therefore to survive. While Bella agreed she'd mentally removed herself from the situation, she rejected the dispassionate label. In reality, Bella was fascinated by her mother and Renee's' brokenness. She didn't feel shame or anger towards Renee over her failures to mother or provide Bella with stability. Instead Bella would spend the hours spent driving to a new town dissecting how her mother had spun their latest eviction and her strategy to find them a new home, which usually meant sleeping in the car for a few nights while Renee moonlighted at 24hr cafes until she found a new boyfriend/landlord.

When she was 17, and her mother was onto husband number three, Bella came home one day to find Renee waiting for her in the kitchen. Her mother motioned to an envelope on the counter, which contained a cut out from a newspaper local to Renee's hometown. An old high school friend had sent it. It contained information about a police fatality. Renee explained the policeman was Charlie; the most likely candidate for Bella's father. The young police recruit who had swept Renee off her feet with the promise her refugee from her own abusive parents, before admitting he already had a girlfriend, then deserted her.

Bella didn't resent Renee, and she didn't know Charlie – if he even was her real father – well enough to resent him either. Instead she'd salivated over this new dynamic to her mother's history and inserted it into her log of her mothers' behaviour. An abusive childhood made so much sense to the mother Renee was.

Two days later Bella got her acceptance letter to college with a full scholarship. Once she left, communication with Renee was scatty, then ultimately dried out. Bella's letters were returned unopened to sender, and Renee' mobile number disconnected. Bella had last heard her mother was in Nevada, but then Renee normally maxed out of town every two years and she'd heard that location during her undergraduate.

Bella knew that sometimes broken situations could have better outcomes than their origins – like her. Or , they could stay trapped in a cycle of brokenness, with all actors unable to break out of the roles assigned to them by personality and circumstance – like her mother. Statistically, remaining in a cycle of brokenness was the norm. It was only through understanding her mother and Renee's parents that gave Bella the tools (and incidentally, the literal training she'd need for her future career) to break out.

So while the various conflicts in the Middle East upheld the rule that broken people create broken situations, which make more broken people…. There was always the chance… that armed with enough observation, understanding, motivation, opportunity and luck…. Maybe every now and then… things could change.

Dreams of world peace were derided and scorned within the agency, and so Bella kept this secret optimism hidden. But that was ok. Because her personal experiences and work culture had cultivated a solitary life. She didn't have anyone to share her thoughts and hopes with, even if she wanted to.

 **~A~**

Bella received regular monthly status updates from the commander of the Jordanian deployment. The first had been detailed; how the squadron settled in and praise for her preparation. Every subsequent report was brief; everything was fine, the Marines were acclimatised and working well beside the Jordanians.

The posting had existed since the 1980s, back when Lebanon was blowing up and the US started to get worried about their assets along the Mediterranean. A combination of American forces were stationed at a friendly base outside Amman, with access to their airfields so they could be deployed to anywhere in the region quickly if needed. Generally it was to provide expert support to ongoing American missions across the Levant and further east or, for the Marines, to engage in an extreme but defined combat role. The posting kept the Marines in a constant state of readiness, allowed them to experience foreign environments, and to develop their skills in action.

For the Jordanians who hosted them, they received training from one of the most elite military forces in the world. They participated in some of the American training exercises and attended classes taught by the more experienced soldiers. It was a status symbol for the Jordanian army to be able to say they trained alongside American Marines, and a political statement for the Jordanian government; we have powerful friends within our boarders, combat ready at all times.

For the men working and training side by side, it was useful to learn from each other, share their experiences, and develop trust.

A fully beneficial arrangement for everyone. And then a casualty occurred. An ally killed an American. A Jordanian soldier killed a marine. Known within the military as a green on blue. It sent shockwaves throughout the American military, intelligence community, government and media. Major news outlets called into question the capabilities of the elite soldier who was killed. Questioned the American relationship with a murky ally in a dirty region. What would be the response to such an unprovoked and violent attack against the soldier, against America?

Bella was in the air three hours after the confirmed casualty report came in.

She was to help the American military police investigation into the death of the Marine. To help liaise the inevitably sensitive political and cultural exchange of information. Manage expectations on both sides. To talk to the soldiers involved and figure out what _exactly_ had _fucking_ happened.

 **~A~**


	5. Chapter 5

Bella was on the plane hours after the news came in. The military plane was a lumbering boxy vehicle, absent of any commercial airline perks like tv screens, headphones, reclining chairs or even windows. There was only basic insulation in the dark chamber, with passengers tucked in close to the engine which reverberated a constant drone. As she boarded, Bella was introduced to her pair for the trip; a military lawyer who represented the United States Marine Corps Criminal Instigation Division. The dark man introduced himself as Warrant Officer One, Jacob Black. As a lawyer, Black was able to opt for civilian clothing – civvies – for the flight, as opposed to a uniform. His lean soldier physique was obvious despite wearing suit pants and a starch white button up, his suit jacket already on the hanger next to his row of seats. The plane could seat 60, but apart from Bella and Black, there was only four soldiers situated in the far back. No doubt those returning to the field after home leave. Black seemed friendly enough, but Bella claimed a row of three seats several rungs behind Black so she would have room to space out. Most soldiers slept upright in the chairs with no issues due to the years of training sleeping in unconventional locations, exhibited throughout the flight by the soldiers in the black who slept just that way despite there being ample opportunity to spread out and lie lengthways. Bella instead used the extra space to spread out her papers, files and government-issued laptop. She did however kick off her shoes for the 12-hour flight.

Bella had been using the flight and the quiet of the practically empty chamber to read over the incident reports as well as all of the status updates from Amman she'd received before news of the casualty came in. She found the steady drum of the military plane engine soothing, unlike many civilians who usually didn't react well to the constant noise absent in well-insulated civilian commercial planes.

About two hours into the flight Bella was startled from her reading when WO Black stopped at the end of her row and cleared his throat loudly. She looked up to find him holding two Styrofoam cups.

"Can I join you?" He motioned to the two empty seats next to Bella scattered with her notes and papers.

"Of course," Bella untucked her legs from underneath her and collected the files into the middle seat, leaving the aisle seat for him.

Black sat down and offered her a cup containing black coffee. Bella liked her coffee with a lot of milk, but she had learnt to keep that weakness hidden from seasoned military members. She took a small sip and used the cup to warm her hands. Black sighed and leant back against the headrest. "This whole situation is fucked up."

Bella agreed. When the kill confirmation came in she'd been sent off to the Bolling Air Force Base just outside at Arlington. She always kept a go-bag in her office so she hadn't needed to stop off at her apartment on the way. By the time she arrived at Bolling, the initial incident report was waiting for her, with _Top Secret_ stamped across all the papers. The file was short but did name the casualty as 22-year-old Eric Yorkie of Charleston, West Virginia. His next of kin was listed as his mother, 47-year-old Rhiannon Yorkie. Yorkie's record was impressive. Enlisted at 17, and lived in military barracks since. Showed strong leadership capabilities, never below operative physical fitness levels. Bella would be sent his full psych results once she landed and had access to a secure line. All she had on the identity of his killer was his name. Omar Hussein.

"Its gonna be a shit show when we land," Black ran a hand over his face and took a sip from his cup, draining over half of it. "The Jordanians are going to be all over us."

"Have you been in country before?" Bella asked.

"Did a two day stop over after coming back from Germany," Black nodded. "They acted all friendly then but you best believe they're gonna have some first class bullshit ready to serve to deflect blame. Probably claim Hussein's mentally challenged. Religious fanatic. Drug abuser. Probably all true too. The fucking standards they have in the JAF."

"The Jordanian Armed Forces have similar standards and entry procedures to the US Military," Bella said. Black snorted into his cup, draining it. "We've always had a good relationship with them and our men report back constant praise of their soldiers and commanders."

"Bunch of back waters," Black muttered, then turned his head and appraised Bella. "So you're… what? The cultural translator?"

Bella repressed a sigh. "I'm with National Intelligence, and I'm here to make sure everyone plays nice during the investigation."

"I bet you're here to recommend whether or not we continue the deployment as well."

"That's outside of my mandate," Bella smiled tightly. "Analysts have no ability to change strategic or military policy."

Black grinned. "Yeah, right. Bloody spook speak. Hell, you're probably here to report back on me too aren't you?" Bella shrugged and took another small sip of her now cooled coffee. People, even defence personnel, always thought intelligence analysts were doing much more than they ever were, or even could. The CIA had resource restrictions and idiots just the same as every other government agency. She wasn't going to Amman for some grand mission. She was there to see the mood on the ground, the response from the Jordanian government, and make sure that it was a rogue incident and not an indicator of deeper problems. Black yawned, wide and loud. "Another ten hours to go. Will you sleep?"

Bella shook her head and motioned to the papers between them. "I've got work to do." Not to mention her normal reports had to still be completed, regardless of her location and the new assignment. It wasn't like intelligence assessments could wait a week, or a temp could be called in to assist.

"Well there's blankets and pillows in the locker next to the food if you change your mind," he motioned towards the front of the chamber. Bella nodded as he stood up, and begun rearranging her papers. "Bella?" She looked up at him. "We'll be staying in the barracks when we land. With the Jordanians, and our guys too."

"I know," Bella said. It wasn't her first trip, and besides she'd been briefed as she was being shuttled on board.

"Just…. Be careful," Black said. "Our rooms will be close by in any case, so let me know if you feel uncomfortable around all the soldiers."

Bella wanted her roll her eyes. "You're a soldier too Warrant Officer Black."

He laughed, and then motioned down to his clothes. "Yeah but I'm not in uniform. Us Marine lawyers have a bit more manners than the guys posted out to the dessert."

"I'll remember that." Bella turned back to her work, dismissing him.

~ A ~

Jacob walked back to his seat towards the front row, smiling as he saw the two other military personnel on board already sleeping heavily. The girl analyst was pretty cute if you got past her severe expression.

The mission – first: investigate the Marines death, second: provide stern direction to his Jordanian counterparts to pursue, charge and imprison his killer, and third: and scare the shit out of them so they fucking take the blame for the casualty and take measures to prevent a recurrence – were straightforward and accomplishable. He was pretty certain the Jordanians already knew the drill, and wouldn't risk ruffling any US feathers by offering much resistance to his guidance. Bella would follow him around, write up her secret reports, check in with the US soldiers stationed there, and be done. Cake walk for her too. She was an experienced analyst despite her youth. Jacob had looked her up when he got the name of his Intel counterpart. He hadn't gotten to see her ID photo and so was pleasantly surprised when he saw the brunette walking down the aisle minutes before take off.

Together they'd get their work done swiftly and easily. Jacob had considered applying to the CIA once he finished his current secondment in twelve months. He was looking forward to seeing how the intelligence analyst – and a woman – dealt with the situation. The fact that she was pretty and smart was a great bonus. But he was uneasy about the idea of a woman entering into a hot zone of a foreign country filled with female-starved men and a freshly dead soldier. The fact that he was just as female-starved as them didn't occur to him. He was going to be keeping an eye on her, for her own sake.

 _ **~A~**_


	6. Chapter 6

**A lot of scene setting I know. But push through! Hopefully onto some new chapters very shortly.**

 **Thanks everyone who originally reviewed this story, and those commenting on recent changes. It means a lot to know people are actually waiting on these!**

 **T.R.**

 **~A~**

Bella did manage to sleep for about five hours during the flight, somewhere over Algeria. She'd drafted the outstanding reports she'd had prior to the news of Yorkie, and would send them off for clearance once they reached Muwaffaq Salti Air Base. Once she'd safe handed them over for relaying, both Bella and Black would board a military convoy heading to Amman to meet with senior government and military officials. After the talks, they'd retake the ninety-minute trip back to Muwaffaq Salti to speak with their own men and continue the investigation.

Bella had gotten up a few times during the trip to grab water and a few of the pre-packaged meals on offer. She'd seen Warrant Officer Black stretched out in the front row, his long body covering three chairs somehow defying gravity and turbulence to stay horizontal even in his sleep. He snored loudly, and looked utterly content with his makeshift bed. _Soldiers_ , Bella thought jealously. _They could sleep anywhere, anytime._ Bella envied them. She'd been a light sleeper ever since she could remember, and usually woke multiple times every night.

A couple times when Bella got up to refill her coffee Black was awake and working away on his laptop. He'd smile widely at her, but she only ever smiled back and didn't go sit with him.

When they landed in Jordan it 0420 local time but their bodies thought it was just after 2100. Bella didn't feel too tired just yet, but definitely grimy and in need of a shower and a change. Black looked refreshed even though his suit was crinkled. They nodded goodbye to the Marines that flew with them. They would be staying at the base while Bella and Jacob got quickly ushered into a Humvee. Their bags were thrown in the back by a man in a US uniform, who then jumped behind the wheel. He introduced himself as Gav, but otherwise didn't speak.

It was dark as they drove East and Bella begun to feel the flight catching up with her. They were scheduled to meet their offsiders at 0600, then get back to the airbase by 1200 and work all afternoon. Sleep wouldn't be an option for them until night, local time. Bella again grumbled her envy of Jacob's mid-air sleep.

~ A ~

They arrived in Amman with a half hour to spare, which Bella used to give herself a shower - with a wet towel - and to change her clothes. She pulled off the grey suit she'd donned some 18 hours earlier and replaced it with a loose fitting button up shirt, and a skirt with tights. She would have preferred slacks or another suit but as a woman she knew she shouldn't; at least for this meeting. Once she was back at the Marine section of Muwaffaq Salti, the pants would be back on.

Jacob was waiting for her outside the women's bathroom. "Well," he started as they begun walking down the hall. "Do you know how you wanna play this meeting?"

"You're the lawyer," Bella said.

"Yeah, and you're the one with a Masters and half finished PHD on these people." Bella glanced over at him as they continued to walk towards the meeting room.

Black smirked at her, "What? Surprised I looked you up? As if you didn't read my profile on the plane."

Bella smiled. No point denying it. Besides, it showed he was thorough. "Ok then. I'm happy to start. I've met a few of the guys a couple times in Washington and in Cairo. I'll start us off, and you take over when we get to the legal side?"

"Sounds good," he nodded.

Together they entered the oak double doors, inlaid with the Hashemite Royal Crest and bespoke with ornate handles. Inside was a large room with a skylight that lit the room with a warm glow. The walls were a yellow parchment colour and empty besides a Jordanian flag and portrait of King Abdullah bin al-Hussein. Bella had previously met the young king during his diplomatic trip to the US. He'd studied at Oxford after training at Sandhurst in Berkshire and spoke beautiful English. She liked him very much as a person, and generally respected the advisers he surrounded himself with in both the government and military spheres.

Several of those men were waiting for them at the far end of the room. Three of the men were in western style suits, and the remaining half dozen in the impressive JAF uniforms with green berets. All were in their fifties or sixties, and senior positioned. _Quite the show of force_ , Bella thought as she and Black approached.

A man Bella knew well stepped forward and greeted her with a handshake, wrapping both his leathered hands around hers. His smile matched the warmth of his hands. "Ms Swan. An honour to have you back in our country. Even if under such mournful circumstances."

"Thank you Mustapha. Its good to be back," she smiled. Mustapha introduced Bella as a Defence Liaison to the group leaving out her Subject Matter Expertise title and her affiliation with the CIA, although Bella assumed they already knew. She introduced Black. "This is Warrant Officer One Jacob Black from the Marine Corps Criminal Instigation Division. He's here to assist with your investigation and help liaise the logistics of Private First Class Yorkie's body back home."

All of the men stepped forward to shake Jacob's hand then Mustapha lead them towards the long table. Black and Bella sat down, and the Jordanians all took seats along the opposite side and begun opening their folders. Neither Bella nor Black liked the message the seating arrangement sent.

"This is a very regrettable accident," one senior military opened from down the far end.

"We agree," said Bella.

"Utterly regrettable, and unavoidable," he reiterated.

Jacob pulled out a notepad from his briefcase, already scribbling. "Were there any pre-incident indicators to Omar Hussein's actions?"

The Major General shook his head slowly. "No. He had been with us for seven years. Under my command for the past five. He was very diligent. No complaints from his other soldiers. Three small children and a wife in Irbid. Very _hajwuloon_."

"Shy," Bella translated to Jacob.

He nodded and continued to scribble for a few seconds before looking up at the line of men. "Ever say anything suspicious about the Marines posted at Muwaffaq Salti? About America? The President?"

"No. Again. He was very polite. There is good comradery at Salti. We work closely with your Sergeant Major to ensure respect and understanding between all our men."

"What about a personal problem with Private Yorkie?" Black asked.

"No," the Jordanian looked tired and sad. "Nothing that I am aware of. I asked the men he was posted with this past roster, and the men in his barracks. They were just as in shock as I was."

"I'll have to speak with them," said Black.

The Major General nodded. "I'll arrange it for tomorrow."

"This afternoon," Black insisted. "The sooner the better."

"Very well."

There was a lull in the conversation before Bella spoke up. "How are your men handling this Major General? Can we do anything to help them?"

He shifted his focus to her. "As I said, they are very shocked. I gave orders for all my men to stand down for the rest of the week. I believe yours received the same instructions. We are used to casualties Miss Swan. We are not used to it when one of our own goes against our friends."

"We both read the initial incident reports, but could you run us through what happened from your own understanding?" Black asked.

"Of course," the soldier seems to try and inflate himself but his body didn't have the energy. "First Lieutenant Hussein had just finished his guard shift. Nine hours on foot patrolling the perimeter of the base with one other man. They had completed their hand over and been dismissed for prayers and breakfast. Hussein was returning to his barracks where he would usually change out of uniform into fatigues, dock his weapon in the locker and meet the other men in the mess for breakfast. It must have occurred shortly after their dismissal 0600, just before sunrise."

"Approximately 24 hours ago," Black confirmed.

The General Major nodded. "We believe so. Private Yorkie was leaving the shower block back to his own quarters. He was in a towel and unarmed. Hussein fired four shots at point-blank range with his Garland rifle, hitting Yorkie in his chest and throat. The shots were heard by many men who came running and found Yorkie on the ground. They applied first aid, but he had already expired. Hussein was found approximately five minutes later in a supply closet a few meters away, shaking and holding his gun. The men took his weapon, bound his hands, and brought him to the Command Patrol office."

Black wrote diligently and considered before asking, "Who were the first on the scene? Americans or Jordanians?"

"Both," The man shrugged. "Two Americans attempted to stem the blood flow, but I am uncertain who actually found Hussein. He was brought to me by men from both our countries."

"We will need to speak to everyone involved." Black iterated.

"I will arrange it," the man answered.

"We are very eager to make this investigation go smoothly," Mustapha spoke up from directly opposite Bella. "We have provided lodging for the both of you at Muwaffaq Salti, and I believe your Sergeant Major has made a man available as your driver to get around the base and Jordan for the duration of your stay. We have left Private Yorkie's body in the hands of your medics, in a private room at the morgue. Kemal here is from our Ministry of Information and Communications," he nodded at the suited man beside him. "He has the authority from the King to issue a media statement regarding the event. He would like either of you to assist drafting the release, so as to keep continuity between our two leaders comments."

"That's fine," said Bella.

"The investigation must proceed of course, but we are confident that this was a freak accident," said Kemal.

"I will need to be there during the interview with Hussein," Black said. "I noticed you haven't held one already. Where is he being held?"

There was an awkward silence in the room before Mustapha spoke up. "He is in one of our military detention holdings."

"I'll need to see transcripts of any psych interviews as well," Black stated.

Another uniformed Jordanian spoke up, "He will not be seeing a psychologist. He is guilty."

Black stared at the soldier. "You said yourselves this was a freak accident. Omar snapped. Unpredictable. We need to know his mental state, and how that will affect his sentencing," he explained.

"Of course, of course," said Mustapha. "Now, you must both be tired. We can reconvene once you've had a chance to rest, and to speak with your countrymen. We are only a phone call or a short ride away, and we will come out and be visiting you at Muwaffaq Salti." Everyone stood and farewelled each other.

Black held the door open for Bella and they begun walking down the corridor towards the stairs and exit. "Well?" asked Black. "What do you think?"

"Not here," muttered Bella. She waited until they were outside, walking toward the green military car with Gav waiting behind the wheel before she spoke in a lowered voice. "I think I want to talk to our men. And their men. And Omar Hussein. As soon as possible.

 _ **~A~**_


	7. Chapter 7

**For Jenbunniee29. Thank you for your lovely review! Hope you and everyone else is going ok in these weird times.**

 **T.R.**

 _ **~A~**_

Bella was physically and mentally exhausted.

Omar Hussein was not available to talk that afternoon. Nor would he be available the next day, or be available to Bella at all for the foreseeable future. That was the message she was firmly delivered by the Jordanian Commanding Officer, or CO, back at Muwaffaq Salti. She'd tried arguing, saying that she'd sought permission back in Amman but the officer simply walked out of the room while she was talking. She was used to that sort of thing, and had already resigned herself to this possibility on the drive back West. Bella reassured an irate Black that she would ask Mustapha and the others when they came out for their official visit.

They had been allowed to interview the Jordanians that were present at the finding of Yorkie's body and spoken to a few of the men closest to Omar Hussein; all with a representative of the Jordanian command in the room. The Jordanian translator spoke perfect English which was ideal, as the Jordanian CO didn't seem to grasp that Bella was fluent in Arabic, which both Bella and Black decided to keep under wraps as long as possible.

They then spoke to all the American's on the base. First to everyone in a crowded auditorium used as a training and lecture room. Black addressed the men, acknowledging the shock and loss of Private First Class Eric Yorkie. He explained that he was partly there to facilitate a dignified return of his body back home, and had already been in contact with Yorkie's mother and would reiterate all of their condolences to her. Black iterated that the investigation into Yorkie's death was ongoing, and it would be a bilateral project with the Jordanians. He explained that he would have to speak to everyone involved in the incident and Yorkie's work. He did not explain the presence of Bella, which was fine by her. Most guessed her to be an assistant of Blacks. Just before Black dismissed the men, he reiterated "While I stand by everything I said, especially the tragedy of the incident and bilateral nature of the investigation, I would like to press upon you all the significance of yesterdays incident. An American soldier and citizen was killed while on active duty in an allied country. We do not know the motivation of his killer, if he was following orders, or if the incident was isolated event. I would encourage all of you to remain vigilant, and speak with myself or your commanding officers if you see anything suspicious."

The men filed out soon after. Some visibly angry or glassy eyed, no doubt tired and in shock. Others with hardened faces of trained military, betraying nothing. Bella thought Black's speech sanctimonious and hyperbolic, but she was still undecided if WO Jacob Black was himself both of those things or if he simply felt that was the right language to adopt in the situation, as demonstrated by generations of American leadership.

The next few hours were hectic as Bella watched Black interview all the men who had shared quarters with Yorkie, worked alongside him, as well as the two who were there yesterday soon after his body was found. No one had anything revealing to report. By all accounts Yorkie was good, capable solider and had never expressed any overtly anti-Jordanian commentary or issues with Omar Hussein. He kept a regular schedule (they all did) and was known to be one of the earliest risers in the group. One man showed Bella and Black Yorkie's bunk where he had pinned up family pictures and ticket stubs from baseball games and the latest Star Wars movie. His clothes and personal belongings were all accounted for in the trunk at the end of the bed.

The two men who had arrived soon after his death had reported hearing yelling and came running from their own beds to found Yorkie dead in the arms of another solider. It was that soldier who instructed them to begin a search of the immediate environment for the killer. The names of the Marines involved had been left out of the initial Top Secret reports received in Virginia to mitigate the incident leaking, but Bella could have guessed the identity of the first responder. The hero from Marine Corps Command Headquarters in Georgia. First Lieutenant Edward Cullen.

 _ **~A~**_

Four hours. Four hours and they were still waiting for an appearance from First Lieutenant Cullen. Black had eventually gone and retrieved the lunch prepared for them earlier by the mess staff, which they'd eaten cold while both reviewing their notes from the day. They agreed they needed to speak to Hussein and Cullen before reporting back to Headquarters. Bella had called Amman while Jacob returned their trays but after forty minutes she was still only left with the promise that Hussein would be made available to them "soon".

Bella had set herself up on one side of the room, commandeering an end of the long table and begun working on her outstanding reports leftover from Virginia. Black annoyed her by stalking the length of the office repeatedly before thankfully taking himself out for a walk around base. She felt the stress of the day catching up to her. She was closing up on 28hrs without sleep, plus international travel and the adjustment to the Levantine climate. The interview with FL Cullen would take at least an hour… then another hour to write it up… then video calls back to the States after that to clarify the details she'd have typed out…

Bella stood. This was ridiculous. Omar Hussein's presence she could not control, but First Lieutenant Cullen was a soldier of the US Military and reportable to Jacob Black and any representative of the Central Intelligence Agency regarding an overseas crime involving a US citizen. _So where is he?_ She yanked open the door and begun walking down the corridor toward the office of the US Commanding Officer but was stopped by his clerk once she reached the antechamber.

"He's not in there," the soldier explained, remaining seated. Normally it would be protocol for the man to stand while addressing any guests of the Commander, but given the circumstances his apathy was understandable.

"When will he be back? I need to speak with him about a member of his platoon," Bella said.

The soldier looked over at the bland mass-purchased clock on the wall, familiar to US military bases all over the world. "He usually finishes his day with a perimeter run… depends on the day and how its been, for how long he's runnin." Bella sighed and turned back in the direction of their seconded office. "What ya after? I might be able to help," the soldier offered.

"First Lieutenant Cullen. He was meant to report to Warrant Officer Black and I at 1500."

The soldier's eyes widened. "Cullen? He's gone."

"What?" Bella exclaimed. "Gone where?"

"He's out on Patrol. Twelve hour shift, 0700 – 1900. Didn't anyone tell you that?"

"No," Bella said flatly.

"Y-yeah," the soldier stuttered. "We sent a message to him when WO Black mentioned he wanted to speak with him. Told him to return to base. We got an affirmative reply from his patrol but no idea how far they were out or when he could get back…" Bella stared at him. "…Someone should have brought you guys the message…"

Bella closed her eyes and breathed deep, calling on her reserves. "Ok. Where would he return to once he's back?"

"Green Gate, western end of the base. Pass the shower blocks and keep going til you hit the trucks. Want me to get someone to take you?" He seemed desperate to redeem the oversight.

Bella offered him a small smile. "Its ok. I know you're all tired and worn out from everything. And change of shift is soon. I'll take myself. If you see WO Black though, please tell him."

The soldier nodded keenly as she begun walking away, "I will."

 _ **~A~**_

 **Quick question for everyone: is all the military speak making sense? Are y'all reading the acronyms ok? I want to explore that side of the story a bit, but I don't want everyone slogging through bogged down context… Let me know what you all think x**


	8. Chapter 8

_**~ A ~**_

Bella's admiration for the Marines stationed to Muwaffaq Salti grew the longer she waited by the Green gate. It was 107° out and 1700 in the evening. She watched the men engage in their end of shift rituals. Some showering, or heading first to the weights arena; popping in ear buds and taking off shirts before beginning a heady set after a long shift. Some smiling to each other, calling across the hammocks they'd raced to claim. Playing cards. Without a comparison from 48hrs ago it was impossible to tell, but Bella wondered if there was a noticeable change given the shooting of Private Yorkie yesterday. Were the men more subdued, or were they so used to the suddenness of death that they quickly fell back into their routine with little change?

She was mildly disturbed to note that - while engaging in similar activities - the American and Jordanian troops were separated. Neither was engaging with the other, and no groups of integrated members could be seen. Was that new? Or had they been segregated for some time? Bella added that to her list of questions.

None of the men, from either country, were bothered by the heat. Admittedly they were in far less clothing than her, but they were clearly acclimatised and comfortable. Bella was sweltering. She could feel the lining of her pants sticking to her thighs, wet with her perspiration. The end of her ponytail clung to the back of her neck, irritating the skin. While Bella had propped herself under in the shade of the closest building, it had done little to relieve the intensity of the climate. Belatedly she chastised herself for not drinking enough throughout the day, but she hadn't wanted to disrupt the interviews with constant bathroom runs. Or, she admitted bitterly to herself, she didn't want to be the little girl constantly asking for more water while Black seemed to be doing just fine.

After twenty minutes Bella was ready to concede that she was feeling physically ill from the heat. Then she heard the familiar rumble of an infantry carrier vehicle.

She watched with a hand over her forehead blocking out the glare as the grey monster churned over the earth, manoeuvring through the first then second perimeter gates before pulling up behind the line of trucks assembled near her. It was two or three minutes before the ICV powered down and human movement detected as one of the doors cranked open. She could hear voices ricocheting off the inside as one figure jumped down from the side door. Not an inch of skin could be seen beneath the heavy uniform, pack, harness, and helmet but Bella knew this would be the belated LO Cullen. He moved with agility across the dirt road and begun running toward the main building. Bella had thought she would be able to intercept him but he was moving far too quickly, so instead she yelled out after him. "Cullen!"

The figure stopped and pivoted. He looked at her for a beat before beginning another equally fast run to her. When he arrived he pulled off his helmet. Underneath she recognised the face from eight months prior, albeit now with a light sunburn. He was sweatier too; his hair appearing almost black with moisture and clinging to his head.

He nodded his head in greeting, "Ms Swan. I'm sorry about all the confusion. I believe you've been waiting on me?"

"We have," said Bella, her annoyance been burnt out of her by the sun.

Edward didn't appear to have lost any of his abilities to the heat, and spoke in quick fire. "I was out on patrol. I thought you would have been told that. I didn't realise. We turned back as soon as we received the message."

Bella sighed. "Its fine. It's been a confusing day for everyone. But we do need to interview you as soon as possible."

Edward nodded. "We can do it now."

"Don't you need to change? Eat? You've been out ten hours." Bella offered.

"No, its fine. I've kept you waiting. Now is good… if that suits you?" He asked.

They made it back inside the main building but the recycled air-conditioned air didn't help Bella's equilibrium and heat headache. They walked in silence beside one another, through the corridors back to the office allocated to the investigation. Edward opened the door for Bella and followed her in.

"Make yourself comfortable," Bella offered while she walked over to her end of the desk, collecting her papers and shovelling them back into folders then into her case. She could hear Cullen stripping off his outer layer of padding while she looked longingly at the empty water carafe. Cullen would need water too given his patrol and how long the interview would take. Plus she could get a message to someone to go find Black while she filled it.

Bella picked up the plastic beaker and turned to go fill it outside when she caught sight of Cullen's shirt. Clinging with deep marks of moisture to his chest and arms, there were a few patches distinctively darker than sweat. _Blood_ , she realised as she felt the bile rise in her throat.

"You're injured," she croaked out, starting toward him.

Edward looked shocked her, before glancing swiftly down at his clothes. "No," he shook his head rapidly. "No not me. That was… Yorkie."

Bella gasped. "You didn't _change_ after? After they took his _body away_?"

Edward looked up at her, frightened. "No. I reported to the base police and the CO and then… then it was time for my patrol shift. I was going to change after my shift, but we ran late and then the next shit was one man short because the guy was too upset and-" Bella dropped the carafe, which clanked onto the floor as she brought her hands up to her throat. "Bella? Are you ok?" Edward held both hands out in front of him as he approached her slowly, like a cornered animal.

She felt cold all over. Her voice sounded strange and detached as she choked out, "You're covered in his blood! _His day old blood_ -" and then she hit to floor.


	9. Chapter 9

Bella groaned when she regained consciousness, seconds after loosing it. She was dizzy and absolutely mortified.

She could hear Cullen calling her, "Bella? Bella, can you hear me?"

"I'm fine," she replied, blinking her eyes against the fluoro lights. Cullen's head quickly repositioned in front of the harsh lighting, a deep frown present on his face, hair still slick with sweat and sticking up in all directions from his helmet. Flashes of their interaction back in Georgia flashed through Bella's mind and she flinched.

"No you're not," he corrected, pressing his hand firmly against her shoulder as she tried to sit up. "Just stay lying down for a bit. Are you queasy? Sick? Dizzy? I'll get you water."

"There's no water-" Edward's eyes whipped over to the plastic carafe Bella had dropped seconds earlier. His frown, impossibly, got deeper. "Don't worry about it. Just- Let me up," Bella pushed against his arm. Edward moved his hand from pinning her down, to supporting her back as she sat up.

She sat with Edward kneeling close to her for a few beats in silence, both of them assessing the other. Bella's pulse was still elevated, her throat and mouth dry. She was achingly aware that they both smelt of sweat which only added to the suffocation of the stale room. Her eyes dropped from Cullen's concerned face to his sweat drenched grey t-shirt displaying a large patch of Private Yorkie's blood. It should have dried out after the past 24hours but due to Edward wearing several layers of uniform, harnesses and plates, his sweat had saturated the stain, making it appear fresh. Bella felt her eyes drift back into her head and she briefly thought she would faint again.

"Bella?" She kept her eyes closed but forced herself to focus on Edward's voice, clear and strong. She sucked in a deep breath, aggravating her dry throat. Her eyes opened as she felt Cullen's hands pushing her body, manoeuvring her slightly so her back was positioned against the wall of the meeting room.

Her voice came out as a whisper. "Thanks."

They remained in silence. Bella kept her eyes obstinately on Cullen's face and not risking looking at the blood stain again. When the silence became awkward Bella sought to fill it. "How was patrol?"

Was the groove between Cullen's brows permanent? Bella did remember him frowning during their only other interaction – the day of the ill-fated briefing. "Pardon?"

"Your patrol? It… go ok?" Bella winced at the stupidity of her question, but Cullen seemed game.

"Uh yeah – yeah, it was good thanks. All normal."

Bella could feel her pulse slowly starting to slow down. "How long do you go out for?"

"Twelve hour shifts." Edward paused, but when Bella didn't speak again he expanded. "But I did a double. So… yeah I've been out a day."

"24 hours?" Bella clarified. Cullen nodded with the jerky deliberate movements of all uniforms. She released a slow, deep breath. "That's… a lot." He shrugged and nodded at the same time. "You must be more beat than me."

Cullen now shook his head. "I wouldn't say that. I'm guessing you've been working as long as me – and probably harder. Someone brought you food right?"

"Yeah. A few hours ago."

"But not water," Cullen glared again at the water jug to Bella's right.

"No, they did. Just…"

"Just a few hours ago?" One strong brow, almost black with sweat rose.

"Its fine. I should have refilled it. I'm not- I haven't acclimatised yet. Its hot."

"Right." They lapsed back into silence for a few beats. "Is it just that? You haven't drunk enough? Or… can you not handle the sight of blood?" Edward asked, motioning tentatively towards his stomach.

"I'm fine with blood," Bella said through gritted teeth, hating that her equilibrium wasn't fully returned. Cullen said nothing so she iterated, "Honestly. I am. It's just the heat. Plus the flight, the long hours. The air in here is so recycled. But I'm fine."

"Ok," Cullen replied.

Bella looked him over. He was staring openly at her. She knew she must look pale and tired. He didn't appear to be uncomfortable the way a lot of soldiers were with an unknown – obviously distressed – female. His expression was rather inscrutable actually.

This was stupid. She had work to do. And the sooner Cullen was interviewed the sooner she could have a shower and collapse into a bed.

Cullen seemed to anticipate her movements as Bella shifted against the wall, preparing to stand. He moved fluidly from his kneeling position to standing and extended his hand down to her. Bella didn't hesitate as she placed her own in his, feeling her sweaty palm against his dry coarse skin. He didn't appear to exert any effort as he pulled her slowly up, his other hand hovering near her hip as if to grasp her should she falter again. He kept his hand wrapped around hers once she was upright for a few seconds, his eyes firm on her. Checking she was steady on her feet.

"Thanks." Bella gave the FL a small smile.

The groove between his brows finally released and Cullen returned her smile warmly. "You're welcome." He then bent down and picked up the damned carafe. "Why don't you take a few minutes? Splash some water on your face. I'll refill this, and we can start? Unless – do you want to postpone? We can reschedule."

Bella shook her head. "No. Its fine. Its better to do this as soon as possible."

"Right. Ok."

"We need Warrant Officer Black. He needs to be the one to ask you the questions actually. He went for a run…"

The groove between his brows was back. "Ok. I'll get a runner to find him?"

Bella nodded. "Thanks."

Cullen moved past her to open the door. He motioned for her to go out first. "Do you know where the bathrooms are?"

For some stupid reason Bella blushed. "Yes. Thanks. Again. And for helping me…"

"Its no problem Bella. I'll just be a few minutes. Take your time."

Bella turned and went down the corridor, round the corner to the room clearly marked Female. She walked toward the basin which was spotless and no doubt cleaned every morning despite no female officers being stationed to Muwaffaq Salti. She pulled on the towel dispenser, the whisper thin paper towel tearing in her hands. She had to yank on a few towels to make one sufficient pile before running it under the tap. The paper quickly disintegrated. Bella gave up and threw the wadded paper in the bin before putting her hands under the tap. She let the cool liquid pool and overflow from her hands for a few seconds then bent down and splashed the water over her face several times, before wetting her neck as well.

Bella stood again, raising her face to the ceiling and let the water drip down her neck, down under her shirt. She took a few deep breaths. Just a few more hours. _One more interview, one more report, one more phone call back to the office._ Then she could crash.

 _ **~A~**_

 **Yay, my first chapter with 100% new material!**

 **Would love some feedback. As I said, I have a few chapters already in the bank but haven't decided on a proper posting schedule yet.**

 **T.R.**


	10. Chapter 10

Jacob was pissed, hot, and tired. He'd slept great on the plane but the heat once they'd touched down had smothered his resources. He was frustrated at not being granted immediate access to Omar Hussein and had already pinged a message detailing the problem back to his higher ups stateside. Jacob hoped some pressure from their end would result in the reappearance of the disgraced soldier.

Jacob had gone on autopilot for the briefing of the Marines. This was not his first investigation into the untimely death of an active soldier and while there wasn't much he could add about the incident or the inquiry that they all didn't already know, it was important to demonstrate that the Marine Criminal Corps was taking in incident seriously.

The interviews with Private Yorkie's colleagues and friends had added very little to his understanding of the situation beyond colour what he could pass on to Yorkie's mother. It would reassuring to be able to tell her how genuinely admired her son had been.

Jacob knew the suit that he'd donned that morning for the Amman meeting was seriously deflated and clinging to his body with sweat. He desperately needed a shower and a meal. The only thing standing between him and that goal was the most necessary interviewee, who - for reasons unexplained - had failed to attend their scheduled interview. Black had pinged the First Lieutenant's Superior Officer regarding this absence, and the SO assured him Lieutenant Cullen would be sent to the office allocated to Black and Swan as soon as possible. That had been two hours ago. It had been forty minutes since their last interview with Yorkie's bunkmates and Jacob had spent the time since pacing. He typically liked to go for a run to clear his head between working, and thankfully his job as a military lawyer was the perfect mix of both mental and physical. Lunchtime runs were encouraged. He usually used his lunch hour to run laps around the Criminal Corps perimeter, letting the latest incident or negotiation churn in the back of his mind while he pushed his body. Unfortunately this wasn't an option for him now due to the temperature outside.

So instead he paced, striding his body across the floor of the medium sized multipurpose room. Bella Swan seemed oblivious to his movement. She had multiple papers spread out on the far side table where he couldn't reasonably see their details without being obvious about it. She had her legs tucked under her, and her chin resting comfortably in the hand propped up on the table. Her clothes were wrinkled too and she had prominent shadows under her eyes but she seemed unruffled by the delay.

After more pacing, Jacob conceded he was working himself into a state and would not be in a good headspace to interview FL Cullen. _If he shows_ , Jacob seethed. _Fuck it. The heat shouldn't be too bad this time of evening._ "I'm going to go for a run."

Bella glanced up from her laptop. "No problem."

Jacob picked up his duffle bag which had been dumped beside Bella's when they were shown into the all-purpose room. He walked through the warrenous hallways until he reached the officers barracks. As guests on base, Jacob and Bella were permitted to stay in the 'luxurious rooms', which is to say the private rooms that were attached to the main building which also housed offices, medic rooms, the mess, storage, and one of the base armoires. Technically only high-ranking American officers were billeted there. The Jordanian seniors had their own barracks across the base. Everyone else slept in the large-scale tents, which housed anywhere from 10 to 40 military standard cots. The officer rooms were smaller than the average college dorm and all identical; king single beds made to standard - one deflated pillow, starched sheets and a light blanket tucked tightly -, one overhead light, one lamp, and one small desk built into the integrated cupboards. One of the cupboards folded back to reveal a mirror above a small sink, with microwave tucked underneath. A real luxury. Everyone else had to eat in the mess or make do with the communal appliances in the rec room. Jacob knew from experience there would be a piddly kettle, more blankets, and iron hidden in some of the drawers. The space was monochromatic, decorated only with yet another clock, and – like most rooms on base – had no windows.

Jacob dropped his duffle on the end of the bed. The desire to collapse on top of the mattress was strong. As was the desire to find the bathrooms allocated to officers and grab a steaming hot shower. But the day wasn't finished yet – _thanks to Cullen_ – and so Jacob pulled on his running kit, grabbed his lanyard with room keys now attached then left the room.

He quickly found the exit and his face was blasted with the dry arid heat of the Jordanian evening. At least it isn't fucking windy. Jacob _hated_ sand. As it was he was still probably going to end up covered in it. He walked along the quasi-path marketed by boot prints toward the perimeter of the base. Once he reached the barbed wire of the inner perimeter, he begun stretching. He didn't want to exert himself too much until he knew how his body reacted to Jordan's climate, so he took off in a jog, nodding at a few guys he passed doing the same circuit.

Jacob was used to being the new guy on base. As a rep of the legal branch of the Marine Corps, Jacob and his colleagues were based at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, but in reality they often either rotated through different bases for six month stints or flew-in-flew-out to different stations as the job demanded. It depended on the work. Sometimes he investigated issues of assault, drug use, or insubordination between troops. Sometimes he dealt with interpreting the thin line of the law and where Marines could operate. Or liaised with legal council of other forces who Marines worked alongside. It could be a job taking interviews over a few hours or days, or get him seconded for a few months.

Jacob was the first of his family to go to college, but not the first to enlist. His grandfather, father, brothers; they'd all joined up as teens. Jacob was the smart one. He and his family had all harboured dreams of him going to college. But they'd been fucking poor. Jacob had gown up on a reservation in Nevada, the youngest of four boys. His father had served in the US Army until a training accident had left him paralysed from the waist down. They'd lived off his fathers pension and mothers waitressing wage but that didn't spread far enough to include college tuition. He could have gone to a community college, but with his brothers all self-sufficient and living on various bases across the country Jacob had felt like a burden on his parents. One extra mouth to feed. If he left, his mother could reduce her hours at the diner. Get to sleep in some mornings. And besides, he'd get a better education at a military college. The solution was simple.

Jacob didn't exactly take to military life like a duck to water though. He thought it'd be cool; his brothers all loved it all right. The schooling was great. He was most definitely set on being a lawyer. And the varied work was awesome. For now. But the second Jacob moved away from home, he realised that he wanted a family. A big one like his was. A wife, a house, a litter of kids. Certainly not a posting every couple of years, moving, travelling, missing out on football games and his wife's cooking. He was considering either discharging but remaining on as a civilian in Defence Legal or going into Intelligence. He'd heard mixed things about the Intel community, but knew for certain it was a well paying gig, always in need of lawyers, and best of all; you could choose to remain in place meaning he could set up a home base.

Jacob had told himself he'd make moves towards discharging as soon as he found the right girl. But dating had been hard. Sure, meeting women as a guy in uniform was easy. Plus a law degree? Pfft. But maintaining those relationships was tricky when you got flown interstate for indeterminate lengths at minimal notice. Maybe it was the other way around. Maybe he needed to resign, set up base, _then_ start looking for his girl. He'd heard the Intel community was pretty inbred, which made sense when you considered they were limited in how much they could say about their jobs to people outside of work. Far easier to marry from within, where you already knew each other and what you both did for a living. As Jacob made his third pass around the perimeter of the base he wiped a layer of sweat off his brow. He made a mental note to ask Bella about her job – as much as she could even say – and if the dating rumours were true.

By his sixth lap Jacob had managed to improve his mood, ingest the interviews they'd completed, and make up his To Do List. His final lap he completed as a slower jog, cooling down. The night certainly hadn't felt like it had cooled at all, however as a dessert native himself Jacob knew when the sun did set the temperature drop could be jarring.

He showered quickly and donned slacks and another white shirt. Jacob plugged his laptop into the power outlet, cursing himself for not recharging it before his run, then left his room to head back toward the meeting room. If FL Cullen was still missing he would nab Bella and head to the mess for an early dinner.

When he opened the door to the room, the lights were off. Motion censored – to save power and government money – the darkness indicated the room was empty. Jacob stepped inside and the lights flickered awake. Bella's forms were presumably locked inside her metal case, sitting on the desk attached to a chain locking them to the wall and table. Her government issued laptop was similarly chained. Unlike his, hers could not move freely around the base and had to be physically locked up or on Bella at all times. Jacob assumed she'd gone to the bathroom and sat himself down, jotting down the list he'd tabulated while running.

When she wasn't back after a few minutes, Jacob assumed she'd gone for that early dinner. He pocketed his notebook, scanned the desk for anything out of place, then headed towards the door. As he opened it Jacob came face to face with a soldier. The man wasn't wearing his outer uniform that would display his rank, but based on his raised hand which was still poised to clearly turn the handle of the door Jacob just opened, Jacob could take a pretty good guess. _First Lieutenant Cullen._

 _ **~A~**_

 **acw1 – thank you for your consistent reviews! It means a bunch to me**


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